


a power wretched and beautiful

by TR33G1RL



Category: One Piece
Genre: Crying, I swear it's not as mean as it sounds, M/M, Master/Pet, Petplay, Power Bottom, Puppy Play, This is a lot spicier/cuter than it sounds, but it's just because Cavendish is playing with him, power bottom Cavendish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22037794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TR33G1RL/pseuds/TR33G1RL
Summary: "God, it’s too much. The pressure, the friction, the lovely words; it's all so painfully good and it’s too fucking much."(I got a request for a fic in the same setting as my fic 'Soft Lips, Sharp Teeth', and the requester wanted Bartolomeo to cry. Basically, I wrote Cavendish teasing Bartolomeo until he cries. It was really fun to write, and thank you to the requester for letting me play around with this prompt a little! I hope I did it some justice!)
Relationships: Bartolomeo/Cavendish (One Piece)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	a power wretched and beautiful

Cavendish’s smile is so beautiful and so, so wicked as he reaches up and takes Bartolomeo’s chin in his palm. His grip is firm but gentle as he tilts Bartolomeo's face up so his pup is looking him in the eye. 

"Bartolomeo," Cavendish says lowly, his bright eyes piercing Bartolomeo's as if they were the pointed tips of swords. His smile, sharp as his eyes, seems to soften for a minute as he rubs his thumb over the taller man's cheek. "You know that I find you absolutely adorable, right?" he asks in a coo so sweet that it nearly makes Bartolomeo salivate.

Bartolomeo chokes back a whimper as he nods. He hates this game. At least, he  _ wants _ to hate this game, wants with all of his being to hate the way he’s being tortured, but fuck, does he love it. Loves it so much he dreams of it whenever his mind chooses to wander. At least, he loved that part, this very beginning part, the part where Cavendish praised and petted him. Now… Now he just aches all over and wants to cry. “Thank you, Master,” he murmurs, the words all but choked from his throat as his fingers twitch in their grip around Cavendish’s hips.

A soft, pretty chuckle floats from Cavendish’s lips like a butterfly. “Of course, darling,” the fencer replies before pressing a kiss to Bartolomeo’s cheek, barely a breath away from his lips. His lips are soft - heavenly soft - against his boyfriend’s skin, but it feels more like embers on his skin than a brush of a feather. It nearly stings with how much Bartolomeo wants more, wants those petal-soft lips that smell like roses to drift over just a few more inches, just enough that Bartolomeo can finally feel his Master’s lips on his own.

Of course, that doesn’t happen. Cavendish is having too much fun with this horrible, terrible, agonizing, wonderful, glorious game that Bartolomeo hates to love. This game where Cavendish touches Bartolomeo - but just barely. Oh, yes, he’ll brush his fingertips over Bartolomeo’s neck and shoulders, he’ll plaster himself to Bartolomeo’s side, he’ll grind himself against Bartolomeo in any privacy that they can find, he’ll press kisses to the sensitive spots of Bartolomeo’s skin that make his pet blush and breath heavier.

But! But, but,  _ but! _ Cavendish’s touches will never grow more than a feather light skim over Bartolomeo’s clothed body. When he pushes himself against his sweet pup’s side, he whispers sweet words that get Bartolomeo riled up no matter where they are. Each and every time Cavendish grinds up as against Bartolomeo, he pulls away and leaves the poor man aching in his pants and typically with a class, study group, or gym session that he needs to be at in fifteen minutes or less. And the worst, in Bartolomeo’s humble opinion, is that Cavendish teases him with kisses. He kisses Bartolomeo’s cheeks, forehead, neck, shoulders, chest, back, and anywhere and everywhere else that he so sees fit. Everywhere and anywhere, so long as it isn’t Bartolomeo’s lips. And that is by  _ far _ Bartolomeo’s least favorite part of this infuriating game.

Soft lips move further back, pressing another chaste but heated kiss to Bartolomeo’s cheek. Though this time, Cavendish’s kiss lands just in front of Bartolomeo’s ear, drawing a pitiful whine from deep in the taller man’s throat. The noise apparently amuses his Master, because a low, sweet chuckle raises goosebumps on the back of Bartolomeo’s neck. “You are so, so  _ pretty, _ puppy.” 

Bartolomeo couldn’t help the small sob that escapes his throat if he tried. “Th-Thank you, Master,” he says, trying to hide the whine that’s in his voice. He knows it doesn’t work, but dammit, he tries. And he knows that his effort just makes this even worse, makes Cavendish feel that much more playful, because when that pitiful noise breaks free from Bartolomeo’s lips, Cavendish’s grin grows even sharper.

Four days.

It’s been four days since Bartolomeo had felt Cavendish’s lips pressed against his own, had felt a touch that’s been more than teasing.

Cavendish sits on Bartolomeo’s lap like it’s his throne, one rightfully earned, and damn, does he look good there. He has on this black, see-through tank top that Bartolomeo is willing to bet is much more durable than it looks. (Cavendish usually likes that in his clothes - when they look delicate but are strong enough to hold up even under Bartolomeo’s desperate pulling and tugging.) And under it, simple black underwear that fit to his body perfectly, as if they were made for him, that show off his erection in the most flattering way. And the way the thin fabric of the shirt shows off Cavendish’s strong form and pert nipples is almost torture; Bartolomeo just wants to reach out and  _ feel him. _

Simple. his Master’s outfit is so simple, but so damn effective.

“You’re such a good puppy, Barto,” Cavendish purrs sweetly as he rocks his hips down against Bartolomeo’s in a way that makes the taller man’s body jerk as his cock throbs and a whine pushes itself up from his throat. “Even though you’re so hardheaded, I still find you adorable.” Again, he repeats the action, grinding his ass against Bartolomeo’s painfully hard erection and drawing another desperate noise from his pet.

“H-Huh?” Hardheaded? But Bartolomeo has done nothing but submitted to Master’s each and every whim! He just wants to give Master everything he wants! “M-Master?” he asks with a sniffle. “Wh-What d’you me-an?”

A light laugh falls from Cavendish’s lips as he leans forward to gently rub the tip of his nose against Bartolomeo’s. “Oh, haven’t you figured it out yet, sweet dog?” he asks with a teasing coo in that intoxicating voice that Bartolomeo loves. At Bartolomeo’s blank stare and embarrassed flush, Cavendish laughs again. “Aw, puppy!” he croons between small laughs. “You’re such a silly boy! But,” Cavendish’s voice drops an octave as he roughly grinds their hips together again, “It’s just so cute that I want to make you cum until I break that adorable mind of yours.”

God, it’s too much. The pressure, the friction, the lovely words; it's all so painfully  _ good  _ and it’s too fucking much _. _ Bartolomeo’s eyes begin to well up with tears and make his vision go foggy as a watery sob escapes him. “Ma-aster,” he says shakily. “I-I don’t kn-know what you want! Plea-se, just- Hah!” His words are cut off as Cavendish’s moves his hand to rake his nails down Bartolomeo’s bare chest, leaving light pink lines in his wake. "Just tell m-me what you wa-ant! Please!" Bartolomeo cries as his Master continues cruelly rubbing their hips together while scattering kisses all over Bartolomeo’s cheeks. 

“Aw, but you’re already so close, puppy," Cavendish says with a light, breathy laugh. His own cock is hard, but it doesn't hurt  _ nearly _ as much as he's sure his sweet dog's does. He grinds down especially hard as he pinches Bartolomeo's nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "You're so, so close, pretty boy, just a little more."

It's that little bit more, that extra pressure on his clothed, already weeping cock and that sharp pinch to his overly sensitive chest that causes the tears to start. The warm tears begins to flow down Bartolomeo's cheeks and he's desperately unable to hold them back as he sniffles and tries to hold back his sobs, to no avail. He wants so badly to open his mouth to beg for his Master - not for the first time during this torturous game - but when he tries, all that comes out is this pathetic hiccup of "Ma-ah!" His chest jumps with the hitch of breath and his hands desperately scramble to hold onto Master's waist as he buries his face in Cavendish's neck, trying to hide his tears. "Ma-ast-er," he manages to sob brokenly, "M-More, ne-ed mo-re! Pl-ease! Mas-ter!"

Warms spots of warmth begin to sink into Cavendish's shirt as Bartolomeo's tears stain the fabric. However, Cavendish's hands and hips don't pause, don't let up, as his nails draw raised lines over Bartolomeo's chest and down to his stomach as he grinds down against that aching bulge in Bartolomeo's pants. "Ah,  _ there _ we go," Cavendish purrs as he moves his hands to Bartolomeo's hips, guiding his pet to grind up against the fencer's ass. "Poor little pup, so desperate that you're crying and begging. Can you tell me what you want, pretty doggy?"

Bartolomeo can't even respond, just tries to bury himself further into Cavendish's warm skin. He sniffles and tries not to choke on his tears as he tries to pull Master closer, as close as he can. His hips are rubbing against Cavendish's hips so hard and it creates this  _ friction  _ and  _ pressure  _ that's so damn much and it's making Bartolomeo's entire body tremble. 

"Aw, come on, little puppy," Cavendish says with that soft, sweet voice. "Just speak for Master. Use your words and tell Master what you want." Oh, Bartolomeo is so cute when he gets so desperate that he cries, a sniffling and begging dog that's so very desperate for his Master. "Puppy, can you look at Master and tell me what you're begging for?" Cavendish asks before pressing a teasingly soft kiss to Bartolomeo's temple, a wicked grin on his lips. 

Bartolomeo takes in a shaky breath, tears still streaming down his cheeks as he lifts his head to look into those lovely blue eyes. “M-ast-er,” he whimpers weakly as Cavendish’s nails roughly dig into his skin and grind their hips together in that tortuously beautiful way. “I-I n-need-!” His words are cut off by a sudden hiccup that makes a flush rise in Bartolomeo’s cheeks and his hands shake. “I ne-ed Mas-ter!” he chokes out as he lifts his hands to wipe away his tears, but before he can, Cavendish gently grabs his hands and pins them down to Bartolomeo’s sides. At the motion, Bartolomeo whines pitifully, but doesn’t try and resist as he looks, teary-eyed, to his Master for guidance.

The look on Bartolomeo’s face is so sweet, so desperate, and it draws an amused chuckle from the blond man. “Aw, sweet boy, you look so  _ needy _ right now,” Cavendish says in a honey-sweet voice, pleasure dripping from each and every syllable. “Look at you, crying and begging for your Master. But what’s wrong, pup? Is something the matter?” 

Is this game a bit mean? Perhaps. But does Bartolomeo actually love it under all the tears and sniffles and hiccups? With each and every fiber of his shaking being.

Bartolomeo tries to swallow his soft hiccups and sobs before speaking. “W-Wanna tuh-touch you,” he manages to say as his finger twitch with the want to do something. But he’s a good dog and stays still, not moving at all because he doesn’t want to displease his master. “W-ant you t-to touch m-me.”

Cavendish has to suppress a smile as he grinds their hips together again and asks, “But why is that making you cry, pup? It’s not like we haven’t seen or touched each other at all.” He loosens his grip on Bartolomeo’s wrists - knowing full well that Bartolomeo wouldn’t dare move without the blond’s permission - before lifting them to gently cradle Bartolomeo’s jaw in his hands. “What’s so wrong that you’re crying, sweet boy?”

Again, the green-haired man struggles to form words through his tears. “M-Master!” he pleads. “Y-You kno-ow why!” Bartolomeo isn’t sure he’d be able to put words to what he needs without choking on his own tears. He still keeps his hands by his sides. He wants to be good, so good, the best, his Master’s perfect dog. 

Aw, Cavendish’s puppy is so cute like this! He’s such a lovely sight beneath Cavendish, and the blond can feel the way Bartolomeo’s entire body is tense beneath him, his cock hard between Cavendish’s legs and against his ass. But Cavendish isn’t so mean that he’d carry out this torture any longer, so he lets a sweet, kind smile form on his face as his gaze grows soft. “Aw, sweetheart,” he coos softly as he lifts his hands to Bartolomeo’s face, cupping his cheeks and wiping away the rivers of tears that flow freely down his boyfriend’s cheeks. “It’s okay, I know what you need. I promise I’ll make it all better for you, okay, pretty pup?”

Bartolomeo shudders as he feels the tears being cleared away from his cheeks and he leans into his Master’s hands. At Cavendish’s words, he nearly collapses in relief, trembling as he nods unsteadily. “Pl-ease,” he whimpers, “M-Make it bet-ter.” Finally -  _ finally  _ \- the game is almost over! Finally Bartolomeo can have his Master again! “Master…”

Loving hands move away from Bartolomeo’s cheeks, moving to tenderly card through his hair. “I will, puppy, don’t worry,” Cavendish reassures before leaning in to place a kiss on Bartolomeo’s forehead. “Master is right here, puppy, I’ve got you.” He gently pulls his sweet pet closer, guiding Bartolomeo to lay his head his Master's shoulder and to wrap his arms around his Master's waist. "Just breathe for me, okay?"

Nodding against Cavendish's neck, Bartolomeo pulls in a breath before shakily blowing it back out. He tightens his grip around the fencer's body, pulling Cavendish close until their bodies are flush against each other. His tears are starting to slow and the controlled breathing helps, though they still soak into the mesh of Cavendish's shirt. He keeps focusing on his breathing and the feeling of Master's body so close to his own - soon enough, he'll be able to have Master even closer, and that will make everything worth it.

Cavendish smiles as he presses another kiss to Bartolomeo's forehead. "Good boy. You're doing so, so good for me. Just keep breathing." His hands move down to Bartolomeo's sides, softly moving down to the hem of his pants. He feels his pet twitch under his hands and hears a small whine. "Oh, sorry, puppy. Are you sensitive?" He feels a small nod and a small hitch of breath. "Ah, sorry, sweetheart," he apologizes as he moves his hands to Bartolomeo's back, rubbing broad circles into the heated skin. "Would you look up for me, dear?" Cavendish requests in a gentle but resolute way.

Again, Bartolomeo nods, and he takes in another deep breath before he swallows and looks up at Master. The loving smile that Cavendish directs at him makes Bartolomeo feel a burst of warmth in his chest that makes his own lips pull into a grin. "Master," he murmurs happily as his tears finally come to a halt.

"Puppy," Cavendish replies, his own voice just as soft and sensual. He traces his fingertips over Bartolomeo's spine, smile growing when he feels his pup's spine arch ever so slightly. He continues the relaxing motion, feeling Bartolomeo relax into the action as he asks, "Do you want a kiss, doggy?"

Immediately, Bartolomeo nods, eyes going wide in eager excitement. "Please, Master?" he asks quickly, hands tight on Cavendish's waist as he leans forward. "Can I please have a kiss, Master?" It's been so long since Master has kissed him for real, and dammit Bartolomeo wants - hell,  _ needs  _ \- a kiss.

"Of course," the blond replies before leaning forward to press their lips together in a kiss. 

It's messy, Bartolomeo's desperation and excitement making his actions less than orderly. Cavendish's hands move to rest on Bartolomeo's hips, gently asserting his control as he feels his pet eagerly lean into their kiss, his tongue and already pressing at the seam of his Master's lips. Cavendish softly squeezes Bartolomeo's hips -  _ 'watch your teeth, pup.' _

The gesture makes Bartolomeo whine against Cavendish's mouth, but he obediently eases up. He allows Master to take the lead, and is admittedly much happier with the way Cavendish slides their lips and tongues together. God, it feels so  _ fucking _ good. Bartolomeo has missed this so damn much, has missed these kisses with every fiber of his being. It’s so good to have them again that Bartolomeo nearly starts to tear up again.

When Cavendish pulls back, they both have vibrant blushes and spit-slick lips and are breathing heavy enough that their chests brush against each other with each inhale. Bartolomeo is panting, eyes cloudy with love and need, as his hands move lower to grab onto Cavendish's strong thighs.  _ "Master," _ he breathes as his nails dig into the into the fencer’s skin, creating blood moon crescents that will undoubtedly bruise by the next morning.

The slight sting in his upper thigh brings a softly exhaled sigh from Cavendish as he lifts a hand to take hold of Bartolomeo’s chin. It’s a pleasant sort of pain, but Cavendish isn’t about to let his pet think he can get away with doing whatever he wants. “Puppy,” he says sternly, looking into the other’s eyes so Bartolomeo knows he’s serious. “Quit scratching.” 

A soft whimper meets the firm command. Bartolomeo has to focus to soften his grip, has to actively think about how his fingers are moving to make sure his nails aren’t sinking into Master’s strong, perfect thighs anymore. His lips pull into an apologetic pout as he gazes up at the other man. “Sorry, Master,” he says with a tone that’s somewhere between huffy and truly sorry as he soothingly rubs his fingers over the red marks, hoping to ease his Master’s pain in order to earn a pleased look from the other man. “I’ll be better, I promise,” he adds as a hopeful grin begins to pull its way onto his face.

Cavendish scans over Bartolomeo’s face with those sharp, blue eyes before his own lips allow a small, approving smile to bloom. “Good.” He replies as he teasingly scratches under his pet’s chin. “I expect it, so you better not let me down.”

Bartolomeo tilts his head back, humming happily and allowing the touch that normally he finds so embarrassing. Truthfully, the only reason he's allowing this touch without so much as a huff or pout is because he's so damn  _ hungry _ for each and every touch he can get. He'll take anything he can get at this point, and his singing nerves thank him for his ability to put away his pride. "Thank you, Master. I’ll be good, I promise," he purrs, warmth spreading through his body, the origin being the areas where Cavendish's fingers brush over his skin.

The fingers move away from Bartolomeo’s chin as an amused grin blooms on his face. “Good boy. That’s what I like to hear,” he praises softly as he moves back to sit on Bartolomeo’s thighs. “Give Master another kiss, puppy.” 

And it doesn’t take any more convincing than that for Bartolomeo to dive back in, sliding their lips together eagerly and sliding their tongues against each other in a messy, lewd manner. A sudden surge of pride rushes through him as he hears Master's lovely moan muffled pressed against his lips. It only urges him to deepen the kiss, so he does exactly that, licking excitedly at his Master’s teeth, tongue and everywhere in between. A low, rumbling noise comes from deep in Bartolomeo's chest as he pulls Cavendish closer. The action causes their hips to rub together roughly and Bartolomeo’s eyes begin to form tears once more at how painful the throbbing of his cock is.

Cavendish chuckles into the kiss before pulling back to see the first tear roll down Bartolomeo’s cheek. Suddenly, he feels less merciful, and much more like teasing. He grinds their hips together again, harder than before, and smirks when it earns him a hiccup and a couple more droplets running down his pet’s cheeks. “Aw, little puppy,” he coos as he hears a soft sniffle. “Is Master rubbing against you too hard?”

Bartolomeo nods, not even trying to hide his face this time. “Y-Yes, Master. H-Hurts,” he whines, gripping to Cavendish’s thighs like his fingers are anchors and Cavendish’s body is the seafloor. “N-Need you, Mas-ter,” He pleads, trying to find it in his trembling soul to say those disgusting, filthy, beautiful words. “M-aster, I… I need t-to fuh-... to fuck you.” He swallows as he finally manages to force those words from his throat; he swallows, and he tastes their splendor on his tongue. It feels so  _ good _ to have finally said them, and Bartolomeo allows himself a moment of pride for managing to get them out. He even manages to stop his tears, though his dark eyes are still watery.

“Oh?” Cavendish asks, his lips pulling into a sly, sultry grin. “Puppy wants to fuck his Master, hm? Is that what you want so bad, doggy? To put that cock of yours in Master and drive Master crazy?” he asks as he continues to grind their hips together in that rough, controlled rhythm.

A low growl is pulled from the back of Bartolomeo’s throat at the words his Master says, the want he feels at those lovely thoughts surging through his mind and body. “God,  _ yes,  _ Master,” he rasps, lust coating his every word like a thick glaze on a pastry. “Let me make Master lose his mind until he can’t think of anything but puppy.” He lets his hands slide from Cavendish’s thighs to his hips, one hand even daring to palm at Master’s cock, rubbing over it in an attempt to bribe his master into doing more. Maybe, if he’s lucky… But he doesn’t want to get his hope up just yet.

Bartolomeo’s actions earn an airy noise from Cavendish, the sound as delicate as lace, before the fencer pushes his hips into his boyfriend’s rough, warm hand. His teeth snag on his lower lip, tugging on it as he tries to hold back a moan. He doesn’t abstain from the pleasure of Bartolomeo’s hand, which he knows is encouraging Bartolomeo, but he doesn’t mind. He’s done playing this game anyway. 

“A-Alright, pup,” Cavendish says, working to keep his voice even as Bartolomeo’s eager hand adds more pressure into his touch. He tries to suppress the shiver that runs through his body, but he knows Bartolomeo can still feel it. "I think I'm done playing around. Let's move this to the bed." He sounds more breathless than he'd like to admit, and there's precum darkening the black fabric of his underwear. His body is beginning to ache with that familiar want, the desire to be filled and fucked by his devout boyfriend, and the want for that now outweighs his enjoyment of the game.

Less than a moment after the words leave Cavendish’s mouth, Bartolomeo is picking the smaller man up and carrying him over to his bed. Cavendish laughs because truly, he expected this. He’s honestly a bit surprised his pet hadn’t done this the second the first syllable of ‘Alright’ passed through his lips. Of course, he knows that his doggy would never do anything without Master’s permission, and it makes Cavendish smile as Bartolomeo sets him on the bed. 

Before Bartolomeo can pull back and climb on the bed with his Master, Cavendish tangles his fingers in that messy green hair and drags his pup forward into another heated kiss. A choked, surprised noise is pressed into their kiss and Cavendish pulls away with a light laugh. “Did I catch you off guard, pup?” he asks playfully as wide, dark brown eyes stare at him.

Bartolomeo nods wordlessly, swallowing dryly around the lump in his throat. “Yes,” he rasps as he kneels on the bed between Cavendish’s legs and his hands move to tug on Cavendish’s shirt. “Master, can I please fuck you now? Please, Master?” he asks, still breathless as he slips his hands under the mesh fabric, his greedy hands roaming over the same planes of skin and muscle that he knows oh-so-well. 

The warm, calloused hands on Cavendish’s body make the blond shiver as he moves back, laying down against the pillows. He frowns up at his pet before his lips part in a gasp as rough fingers begin to toy with his nipples, rubbing and tugging on them. He can’t help that his back arches, pushing his chest up into Bartolomeo’s touch. Once he regains his senses, he shoots Bartolomeo a pointed look. “Now, doggy, did I say you could touch?”

Immediately, the green-haired man withdraws his hands and shakes his head. “No, Master. I’m sorry, Master,” he apologizes quickly, moving his hands behind his back so he can make sure he doesn’t move his them to Cavendish’s body without his Master’s permission.

The scowl on Cavendish’s face softens into a pleased smile as he reaches down, hooking his thumbs in the band of his underwear. “That’s what I want to hear,” he says, a contented hum in his words. He slides the dark fabric down, revealing more of the trail of hair that leads to his cock. “Now answer me this, pup,” he says, voice low and sultry and intoxicating, “Are you going to behave for me?”

“Always, Master,” Bartolomeo responds obediently, eyes following the slow movement of Cavendish’s hands with his eyes. “I’ll be so good for you.” His hands itch to touch his Master, but he won’t, he dares not until his Master invites it. But while his hands cannot touch, his eyes can look. And oh, he does allow himself that, though it’s more of a torture than a relief, for the more he looks, the more he yearns to  _ feel. _

“Good.” Cavendish’s lips blossom into a sly grin as he lifts his legs so he can pull his fabric down, pulling it completely off of one leg before resting both knees on Bartolomeo’s shoulders, his cock proudly jutting from between his thighs with a red, precum-slick tip. Truthfully, he meant to kick the underwear off his foot in the process, but he can’t quite manage it and they remain around his ankle. Cavendish notices this, but Bartolomeo doesn’t seem to, so the blond decides to just let it be. He reaches over to the bedside table for the bottle of lube before tossing it to Bartolomeo, who’s quick reflexes allow him to catch it with ease. It makes Cavendish smile - all this strength and power, and he gets to call Bartolomeo his own. How delightful~

“Barto, go ahead and start getting me ready,” Cavendish requests in a sweet voice as he lets one hand come up to gently cup Bartolomeo’s cheek. He can feel the quickened pace of Bartolomeo’s breathing against his hand and it makes his smile grow. 

“Yes, Master,” Bartolomeo responds with a deep, gravelly tone to his voice as he pops open the lid and pours some of the slick fluid onto his fingers. His eyes are stuck on Master’s body, worshipping it with his loving gaze. He rubs the lube over his fingers, paying careful attention and making sure to cover each and every millimeter of his fingers. He doesn’t want to risk hurting his Master, and he knows his diligence will be rewarded.

Cavendish hums, pleased by his doggy's attention to detail as the blond slides his hand back to fondly tousle Bartolomeo's hair. "Good pup," he murmurs sweetly, scratching his fingertips over Bartolomeo's scalp in a way that makes the taller man all but purr. “C’mon, doggy. Go on and please your Master,” he whispers sensually as his free hand moves to trail down Bartolomeo’s chest, the short journey ending with a faint brush over the bulge in Bartolomeo’s pants. “And then,” Cavendish adds with a sweet-sharp grin, “I’ll please puppy, too.”

It doesn’t take more encouragement than that before Bartolomeo is pushing two fingers deep inside of Cavendish, smiling proudly at the beautiful, breathless noises it earns him. He works slowly, easing his thick fingers inside of the tight squeeze of his Master’s body. It’s hard not to rush as Cavendish’s mouth continues to spill those pretty compliments and even prettier noises. It’s hard, but Bartolomeo manages. He’s being good, like he’s promised he would be.

Cavendish’s back arches as he feels the slow, wet drag of fingers against his walls.  _ God, _ he realized at the start of the game that he’d be a bit more sensitive by the time they got to this point, but he didn’t expect just  _ how _ sensitive he’d be. His lips part with shallow little pants as he feels those calloused fingers working him open in that carefully loving way that he knows he’ll never tire of. “Good boy, Bartolomeo,” he whispers lowly, his words punctuated by a soft moan. “Such a good boy. You’re so - mn - so  _ sweet _ for me, aren’t you?”

So lost in his work, Bartolomeo can’t respond with anything besides a nod and a quiet mumble of , “Always for you.” It’s intoxicating, watching Cavendish’s body let Bartolomeo’s fingers push inside, inviting them in deeper. And so deeper Bartolomeo goes, pushing in until his knuckles are pressed against the tight, pink rim.

“Haah,” Cavendish breathes out slowly as his fingers shakily work the button of Bartolomeo’s pants undone before moving to the zipper and tugging it down. “That’s it, pup, keep going,” he encourages as he rubs his fingertips over Bartolomeo’s clothed, twitching cock. “You’re doing so good, pretty boy.” 

The light, teasing graze has Bartolomeo’s cock throbbing desperately for more contact, for more of his Master’s touch. “Anything for you,” he replies, words trailing off into a whimper as he tries to push his hips into Cavendish’s hands. Of course, the second he tries that, the blond withdraws his touch, clicking his tongue against his teeth and smirking as he shakes his head. 

“Patience, doggy,” Cavendish chides playfully as he reaches up and taps Bartolomeo on the nose, drawing a soft whine from the other man. “You’ll get what you want in time, just be patient.” He winks at his boyfriend and squeezes his muscles around Bartolomeo’s fingers, a promise of what’s to come.

Bartolomeo nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, in response to his Master. “Yes, Master,” he answers obediently before curling his fingers against Cavendish’s walls. And, if he’s honest, the lustful grin and low moan his actions earn him helps to ease his impatience. He repeats the actions, his lips pulling into a smile when a soft, choked noise is released from Cavendish. He begins to work his fingers in and out of the blond, thrusting in and out of Master’s slick, hot body.

Cavendish’s body is warm, his mind growing heavy with lust as he enjoys the slow, steady pace his pet is setting. “Mnh-” he lets his breath pass between his lips as his toes curl in pleasure. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just a little faster for me,” he orders in a sweet murmur.

The pace speeds up, per Cavendish’s request. Bartolomeo is happy to oblige in fulfilling his Master’s wishes, especially when his Master offers such a pleasing ending for them both. With each and every thrust, his speed increases, and Cavendish’s noises get louder each time Bartolomeo’s fingers rub against his walls.

It’s hardly another minute before Cavendish is speaking again, his chest heaving gently with each breath. “Add another finger, pup. I want to get to the fun part.” His cheeks are flushes, and the pink hue tints the tips of his ears, too. His hair is spread around him like spun silk, blue eyes hazy and pupils blown. He’s so fucking beautiful, and Bartolomeo feels like the luckiest man ever to call him his own. 

“Yes, Master,” He presses the tip of his ring finger against Cavendish’s entrance and slowly pushes in. He marvels at the way Cavendish’s back arches, at the low sigh of  _ ‘Shit, puppy-’ _ , and Bartolomeo keeps pressing in, filling Cavendish as best as he can with his fingers before thrusting and curling them.

The preparation doesn’t take much longer than that, and thank goodness because Bartolomeo’s cock is hurting from how hard it is. The second Cavendish says those magical words - “Puppy, you can stop now. I’m ready,” - Bartolomeo’s eyes go wide and he immediately pulls his fingers out of Cavnedish’s heat. “Really, Master? You mean it?”

Cavendish smiles and chuckles softly as he nods. “Yes, puppy. I mean it. Now hurry up, would you?” He moves his hands to Bartolomeo’s pants, tugging them down to the taller man’s thighs. Bartolomeo’s underwear quickly follows, allowing Bartolomeo’s cock free into the air. Cavendish hums happily at the sight of his pet’s already dripping, dark red cock. “You certainly seem excited for this, too. Why make the both of us wait any more?”

Bartolomeo lines himself up and pushes into Cavendish slowly, controlling his actions to the best of his ability. His breath is caught between his lungs and his mouth as he pushes in to the base. “Good,” he mumbles lowly, driven nearly mindless with his growing pleasure as he feels that amazing heat and preasure surrounding his cock, “So, so fucking  _ good,  _ Master.” Bartolomeo is panting by the time his hips are pressed flush against Cavendish’s ass, their bodies connected in the way he’s craved for what has felt like an eternity. “Mas-ter-” His voice rumbles as he looks up to Cavendish, his eyes pleading as he asks, “Can I - Mn - move now?” His hands move to hold onto Cavendish’s grips, hands shaking but strong and unrelenting.

Breathlessly, Cavendish nods. It’s less than a second later that a loud cry is pulled from his lips as Bartolomeo roughly pulls back and thrusts back into Cavendish. “Hah! F-Fuck!” Cavendish’s hands scramble to hold onto the sheets as Bartolomeo sets a brutal pace, ramming in and out of Cavendish as fast and as hard as his body will let him. Fuck, he missed this! He missed Bartolomeo’s rough thrusts, his achingly strong hands, his brutal pace when he got desperate. But  _ goddamn _ this is making it all worth it. “Y-Yes, puppy! Ke-ep going!” He moans, the sound broken as his body moves and shakes with each thrust.

“Yes, Master,” Bartolomeo answers in a growl as he rams deep inside of his Master as he lowers his hand, wrapping it around Master’s cock and beginning to stroke at the same pace as his thrusts. “Anything you want.” And, even better, it benefits Bartolomeo, too. His cock is aching in the best of ways, and he’s desperately chasing his long-awaited orgasm while still trying to pleasure his Master. 

Cavendish is so delightfully tight, so perfect around Bartolomeo, and the green-haired man knows that he’d lucky that Cavendish enjoys this ruthless pace because if Bartolomeo were forced into a slow pace, he’d probably begin crying again. However, that being said, Bartolomeo knows he’s not going to last long like this, and if he wants to please Cavendish, he better start to look for that spot that makes Cavendish’s body go tight with pleasure.

His thrusts continue as he tries different angles, probing for Cavendish’s prostate so he can make Cavendish scream and moan in his pretty voice. He just wants to make Master happy, but that want is almost equally matched by his own want to get off. Thankfully, his mind and his will are both resolved: he’s definitely going to make Cavendish come before him.

“Good boy,” Cavendish pants as his fingers tangle in the sheets at the sheer euphoria that rushes over him with each and every thrust, “Good boy!” His head feels light and dizzy in the best of ways as he’s so thoroughly filled and pounded into. Bartolomeo thrusts are getting so close, so damn  _ close, _ he’s almost- “THERE!” Cavendish gasps as his body goes completely taut for just a moment before he falls back against the bed again. “There! Right _ there!” _ His exclamations are orders to Bartolomeo’s ears, ones that he knows he can count on his sweet pet to carry out.

Bartolomeo nods, panting as he replies with a rough, “Yes, Master.” His own moans are falling freely from his throat as he fixes on that angle, his pace increasing as Cavendish’s body tightens and squeezes around him. Pleasure has his nerves on fire, and he desperately wants to feel that incredible rush of magma as he finally cums and feels Cavendish do the same. “Master,” he pants like the word is the very air he breathes, “Master,  _ Master-!” _

“So fucking good, puppy,” Cavendish whimpers, his entire being alight with something so good that he can only ramble mindlessly as he rocks his into every thrust. His legs are trembling as he feels his orgasm quickly approaching. “So close, so close- C-Close!”

“Please, Master, cum,” Bartolomeo pleads in a deep rumble as he slams into Cavendish like his life depends on it. “Need it, need to make you happy,” he continues, hand roughly beginning to drag Master’s hips back to meet his brutal thrusts while the other continues to stroke Cavendish’s cock. His hand is sure to leave a bruise on Cavendish’s hip, but neither man can bring himself to care as they chase their orgasms. “Please, please,  _ please-” _

Cavendish’s mouth falls open in a wordless cry of ‘Puppy!’ as he spills his seed all over his own abdomen. His muscles clench around Bartolomeo’s cock as the taller man continues fucking into him and more cum spills down Bartolomeo’s hand. “God, fucking good, so good,” he pants as he begins to come down from his high, though his nerves are only growing more stimulated as Bartolomeo continues rocking into Cavendish’s body at that rigorous pace. Cavendish can’t help a small whimper from escaping his lips before he smiles up at Bartolomeo and shakily speaks. “K-eep going, sw-sweet boy,” he orders, though his voice is soft. “Make yourself cum for Master.”

Bartolomeo grins back at him, his rough pace never slowing as he says, “Thank you, Master.” His thrusts grow rougher, less steady as he chases the glorious ending to this night. “Fuck, yes,  _ yes,” _ he pants as he feels the heat building up to a boiling point in his lower abdomen. “Master, thank you, so hot, Master-” And it only takes another few thrusts before Bartolomeo is cumming, spilling his load deep inside of Cavendish. “Fuck, Master!” he growls as his pace finally begins to slow. 

As his orgasm finally dies down to a low thrum, Bartolomeo smiles breathlessly down at Cavendish as he pulls out. “Thank you, babe,” he murmurs as he carefully moves Cavendish’s legs off his shoulders to instead wrap around his hips so Bartolomeo can flop down and lay on Cavendish. “That felt so good.”

Cavendish wheezes at the sudden weight of another body on top of his. “I’m glad, you rooster,” he replies with a light scoff and laugh. A moment passes before Cavendish lifts a hand to lightly run through Bartolomeo’s hair. “Are you feeling alright? Ready to take a shower?” he asks softly, looking over Bartolomeo as best he can from this angle.

“Not yet,” Bartolomeo replies, laying his chin on Cavendish’s chest so he can look up at his boyfriend with a tired but content smile. “I’m still a bit shaky and sensitive. Just a couple minutes and I’ll be ready.”

A light smile tugs at Cavendish’s lips and he leans down to press a kiss to Bartolomeo’s forehead. “Of course. Take all the time you need, Barto.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's not as long as my other fics, but I hope everyone enjoyed it all the same!


End file.
